


the cold hearted boy i used to be

by kittybenzedrine



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Canon, Reflection, Very Evil Karma, mention of abortion, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd brought a civilization completely to his mercy, but all it took was some punk with a knife, and he was through for.</p><p> </p><p>Post Fallout 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cold hearted boy i used to be

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from lyrics in the song 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers

Somewhere around Minnesota, it began to snow. Ben marveled at it, watching a white cloud of breath escape his scarred mouth, disappearing upward. Tiny flakes of it landed on his heavy jacket and exposed face, only to melt. It was a pleasant distraction from the gaping wound in his side.

Sure, after leaving the Wasteland, he'd discovered that yes, weather besides hot existed. Roughly around the Indiana/Ohio border, he got soaked to the bone by rain. His Pip-Boy had barely even picked up any radiation. He'd been in awe, watching until the cold had gotten to him and he had to make a break for shelter.

The farther north he'd gone, the colder it had gotten. And it wasn't a cold like it got at night in the Wastes, where it warmed back up before the chill had a chance to even settle. No, up north, it stayed, only getting colder when the sun set. And there he was, laying on his back, watching the snow begin to fall for the first time in his 20 years of life.

Too bad he was bleeding out. Ben found it pretty funny. He'd been such a sweet boy in the Vault, and once he got out, he slaughtered everything and everyone that wasn't beneficial to him. The Wastes had come to its knees at his mercy, and it had been wonderful. He'd done two good things out there; not let that Kimba girl have his baby, and finish Dad's life work. So what if she'd wanted the kid? So what if he considered poisoning the water? Big deal. He didn't want another monster like him to be brought into the shit-tastic world, and he told Eden to go fuck himself after crushing the vial under his heel.

After the purifier had reactivated, and he'd woken from his radiation-induced coma, he'd gone right back out, murdering and terrorizing the citizens of the Wastes. He'd been _unstoppable_.

And it was funny, because some yuppie had torn his left side open and run off with maybe 1,000 of his caps, and now he was dying. He'd brought a civilization completely to his mercy, but all it took was some punk with a knife, and he was through for.

Ben wasn't stupid, either. He'd used a stim to try to stop it and shot himself up to high hell with Med-X, but he was still losing too much blood.

He felt woozy, and the saturated rag against his side was beginning to slide off. Ben found that he didn't really have the strength to fix it. At least he'd had sense enough to disinfect it with vodka before he'd collapsed.

Ben felt kind of like he was choking. His body felt like it wasn't getting enough air, even though he could fill his lungs completely full (if he ignored the dulling pain in his side). His limbs were heavy, and the pain was starting to fade. So was his vision, which had been swimming for the past few minutes.

It occurred to him that he was going to die. When he'd first collapsed, the little cabin with smoke pouring out of the chimney off in the distance had seemed like a plausible option, like maybe someone would come out and save him. It had been where he was heading to, anyways, to see if whoever lived there would be willing to rent out a bed or couch or even the floor. But with the white fluff beginning to stick to the ground around him, soaking his blonde hair, he knew this was it.

His side didn't hurt anymore. His mouth no longer tasted of copper, either. The sky wasn't a murky gray any longer, just more of a shadow as he tried to keep his eyes open.

Faintly, he swore he could hear Dad's voice. And it grew louder. He felt Dad's lips on his cheek, wishing him good luck on his first day of school. He heard Amata's laugh and smelt her perfume, heard the swish of her dress on prom night. He felt Dad's lips on his cheek, wishing him good luck on the G.O.A.T. Felt Dad's hand on his back, reassuring him that being a laundry canon operator was a perfectly respectable job. Smelt the pleasant musk of Butch's cologne mixed with leather as a jacket was handed to him. Felt Kimba's lips on his, heard her sweet voice tell him that his missing canine was endearing, whisper to him that his eyes were the color of the sky.

The sky.

The sky was so blue.

He loved the sky. It was the first thing he'd loved about the Wasteland. He was glad it was going to be the last thing he saw.

Something faint and wet and cold ran from the corner of his mouth, and somewhere far away in his muddled hearing, someone shouted.

Their baby would have had skin the color of sun warmed Brahmin leather, and eyes greener than any of the foliage he'd seen in Oasis.

A blurry shape hovered over him, moving and making unrecognizable sounds. It cupped his face. Maybe it was Mom. She would love him no matter the bad things he'd done. Even though he was a liar, murderer, petty theif, regular theif, cheater, and overall bad kid, he knew Mom would love him unconditionally, just like Dad had.

Dad would have been so proud of him. So proud of his little boy Benjamin Marcus Pax, bigger baddie than all the Enclave combined, cleaning up and making a family. He should have had that family with her.

He didn't much feel the need for breathing anymore. He was getting such little air, anyways.

His eyes swarmed black, and he let them close.

He wondered, as his brain began to let him go, if Kimba had meant it when she said she loved him, no matter the awful things he'd done.

He wondered if he loved her back.

He wondered nothing more.

 

 

 

For a week, the owner of the cabin and his daughter took care of him, nursing him back to health. He was unconscious for most of it, but did recall seeing flashes of the girls' violet hair and hearing her hum.

They refused any kind of payment for their help once he'd awoken, only accepting news and conversation. They helped him map out the fastest way back to the Wastes on his Pip-Boy, both being familiar with the device because of their late mother/wife, who'd crawled out of a vault in Michigan.

He'd thanked them profusely. They'd given him his third chance at life, and he didn't want to waste it like he had the other two times. He was going to be a good man the third time around.

When he'd escaped into the snowy night, he'd left them a hefty bag of caps. It was probably going to take him three months at the very least to get back, probably more. That didn't matter to him. As long as he got back, he'd be okay.

He was always going to be a bad man, but dammit, he could make himself forget. He could fix things. He could amend as much of it as possible. He had so much to apologize for, especially to Kimba. He had amends to make with Kimba.

He had to tell her that he figured out he loved her too.

At least he had time to figure out how to orchestrate all of it. Ben didn't want to fuck up this time. This was his third chance, and he didn't want to fuck it up.

He took a deep breath of the cold, icy wind, and started walking. He had a lot of ground to cover, and a lot more apologies to start planning.

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I feel like this ended really weakly, and it all just feels like a train wreck, sorry bout that


End file.
